One Week Later
by ScarletPrussia
Summary: She bounded along the path, completely free and happy to be finally seeing her mother after almost a week. Gilbert on the otherhand had reservations. He knew the little girl didn't understand what had happened. He knew she didn't know why they chose those flowers and came to this place. She just wanted to talk to her mother and who was Gilbert to stop that? Rated T to be safe


_I wrote this on a whim and it was the hardest thing I ever wrote but I felt like I had to. Ok so people who read my other stuff this is COMPLETELY different. Don't like sad, don't read._

_Ok so anyone else brave enough, go ahead and enjoy. _

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><p>"Come on lets go!" the small girl called as they made their way down the path from his black Mercedes.<p>

Gilbert reached a hand up to run through his snow white hair as he watched the happy four year old skipped ahead of him, clutching a bouquet of daisies in one hand. He would call at her to slow down, but he knew that wouldn't stop her. The girl had her mother's will that no-one dared to tame. As she went her wavy chestnut hair that was tied into a haphazard bun came undone and fell onto her shoulders. She stopped momentarily and sank on her haunches to analyse something hidden in the grass lining the gravel path. Her bright yellow raincoat fell off her shoulders and crumpled to the ground, leaving her in only her pink polka dot dress and blue wellies and offering no protection against the rain that was falling lightly on them. She dropped the flowers by her side and rested her forearms on her knees, carefully watching one spot with her bright blue eyes. A feature Gilbert knew came from his side of the family.

"Brunhilde, get up from there," Gilbert called at her. But to no avail, she just pushed her chestnut hair away from her eyes and started rummaging through the grass.

Swearing slightly under his breath, he hurried into a jog - closing his black umbrella beforehand so it would catch in the slight wind – to catch up to her. When he did he marvelled to see the girl pull a white poppy from the soil.

"These are mama's favourite flowers," she exclaimed happily and shoved it into the bouquet. "Next time we get Mama flowers can we get her loads of these?" she asked happily, beaming up at the white haired man.

Gilbert watched her carefully through his scarlet eyes for a moment for any indication that she knew what she was requesting. He couldn't find any. The girl was just as cheerful as she always was and it worried him more with each passing day.

"Ja," he choked out after a pause that to him didn't seem long enough, "we'll see if Uncle Artie has any of those flowers."

Brunhilde squealed in happiness and jumped to her feet. She was about to run off again but Gilbert reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.

"You forgot your coat," he informed her with a smile he only hoped covered his true emotions.

She glanced back onto the ground to see the yellow garment and laughed. "I knew something was different!" With that she threw on her jacket, this time putting it on properly on Gilbert's insistence. Once again her arm was caught the second she tried to run off. Tilting her head up to look at the albino she cocked an eyebrow in question.

"You're not running off this time," Gilbert chuckled and opened the umbrella again to shield them from the rain. Slowly the confusion from her face fell until eventually she wore the smile Gilbert always saw on her mother.

"Ok, but come on. I want to see her!" she said happily and started pulling him down the path.

"Ja, ja I'm coming," Gilbert answered and together they made their way round a clump of trees.

Once past the trees Gilbert forced himself to suppress a shudder. Places like this always made him feel on edge and with storm clouds hanging low overhead the place seemed that much creepier. Reluctantly he cast his eyes over the scene in front of him. Row upon row of marble and granite met them. Each one with intricate writing and each piece of writing telling their owner's story. Some more tragic than others. Flowers occasionally decorated the marbled granite and stone on the lined squares. Some marked with small shrubbery and small trees. Some people were tending to these whilst others stood by, absorbed in the objects in front of them. Shifting his attention away from what lay ahead he forced himself to move towards the reason they had come in the first place.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, meandering through the paths they eventually came to the place where the newest reminders lay. Suddenly Brunhilde shot from his side and raced around a corner.

"Mama I'm here now!" she called loudly as she went.

A few glares were sent his way and he could hear faint murmuring about how he couldn't control he child. Not that he cared. There was no way he could care. It was less than a week since he was here last and the memories were still too fresh. The cut too deeply etched into his soul. Right now he just wanted the girl to keep smiling, however a part of him did wish she wouldn't and he hated that part.

Turning the corner he was met with the sight of a grave teeming with flowers. Brunhilde stood at the front talking animatedly to it. Her face alight as she told the grave about her week and how school was going. The flowers however, were still clutched firmly in her hands. Gilbert froze at the sight. It was more obvious now than ever that the girl still hadn't realised her mother was dead and couldn't hear her.

"We have to explain this to her properly," a woman's voice said in barely a whisper. Looking towards the source of the speaker he smiled softly to see his wife sitting on a wooden bench flanked by large potted plants to his right. She wore her hazel hair flowing over her shoulders. Her green eyes bore marks of shed tears as she looked on him. Shifting over she patted the wood, beckoning him to sit down. Bundling her black jacket closer she tried to cross her legs but gave up when her large swollen stomach stopped her. Sighing unhappily she resigned herself to allow her hand to rest on her stomach instead.

"I know Liz, but we tried..." he replied sadly and moved to take his place beside her. His arm automatically looped around her waist and pulled her in to lean on his shoulder.

"We need to do something..."

"I know."

They let silence fall between them and watched the girl continue to talk. By now she had moved onto to showing off some new dance moves she learnt at school. Suddenly she stopped. Her attention caught by something off in the distance. Just as Gilbert was about to get up to investigate what was going on, he heard someone coming down the path towards them.

"Papa!" The girl screamed and rushed forward, her arms outstretched.

Gilbert could only watch as she bounded down the path then clung desperately to the blond man. Her face buried in his dark trousers.

The man's gaze was set on the girl clinging to him. It was only after a few strained silent minutes passed that he looked up and greeted them. His normally slicked back blond hair was now strewn across his head, gashes littered his face and the remains of a black eye could be seen. His crystal blue eyes were bloodshot. Gilbert knew his navy coat hid his broken arm. His other arm was gripped around the handle of a walking stick. His knuckles were white from both the cold and what he was about to face.

"Sorry I didn't make it..." he started his voice scratchy and hoarse.

"No, Ludwig don't..." Gilbert interjected, "when did you wake up?"

"This morning... Vater told me what happened and I had to come, I just got a taxi and..."

Once again silence fell over them. This time no-one attempted to break it; that was until Brunhilde finally pried herself away from her father's legs. Ludwig let his eyes drop to look at the girl. He wanted to smile, to reassure everything was fine, but it was impossible. What he didn't notice was the change in her. Tears lined her eyes and her smile had faded into a small grimace.

"Papa, look what we got Mama," she said quietly and shuffled back to the graveside to pluck the flowers from the ground. "Uncle Gilbert helped me and I found the poppy on the way here." She pushed the flowers up towards her father, not knowing that he couldn't take them without risking falling.

"Here maus," Gilbert spoke up and stepped forward before kneeling beside the girl. "Why don't we put give them to your mama? You're vater isn't feeling well now."

Brunhilde stared between her uncle and father for a brief moment then slowly nodded and moved towards the grave.

"She will like these, right?" she asked hesitantly as they replaced some dying flowers and arranged them in the vase so the poppy was now in the centre.

"Of course she will, you chose them for her after all," Gilbert told her, smiling kindly at her.

He only got a mumbled response. Standing back he finally was able to properly look at the grave.

The headstone was a white flecked marble. A portrait of her on her wedding day was etched into the stone. He could see the white marble lined the boundary of the grave through the petals that hid what he knew to be gold Chinese pebbles. On the headstone in delicate gold writing it read:

_Felicia Beilschmidt_

_17 March 1991 – 15 November 2014_

_Mother, Wife and Sister _

Gilbert had to turn away. The emotions were still so raw and despite having to be brave for his brother and niece, he was having a hard time. Noticing the change in his posture, Elizabeta tried to waddle to him as elegantly to avoid taking unnecessary attention onto herself. It failed and instead of comforting her husband, she made him grin at the sight of her attempts to walk normally. What he did next was unexpected; he grasped her hand and mumbled a low "thanks" then turned both of them to his brother.

Ludwig was just staring at the grave. Completely transfixed on seeing it. He subconsciously played with the gold band on his finger but remained still.

"Papa?" Brunhilde ripped the tension to shreds, "aren't you going to talk to Mama?"

It was like lightning struck the scene. Everyone was frozen in place and they turned their gazes towards the small girl. She nervously looked up at the adults and shuffled on her feet, trying to figure out why they had reacted the way they had.

"I mean, she's just there and she'll be really happy if you talk to her. Uncle Gilbert said that she'll hear you because they have really good hearing in heaven." Her words were small, her voice a fraction of what it was mere minutes ago. It was only then that Gilbert and Liz realised the girl had finally started crying.

Since her mother died the girl hadn't shed a single tear. Instead, choosing to believe that her mother was going to come back. It was something she chose to believe when she was told her mother had gone to heaven. She had heard that people can see their loved ones again in heaven. It had only now sunk in that if she were to see her mother again, it wouldn't be for a long time. When asked later why she didn't cry beforehand, she would tell them that she thought both her parents would come find her again. So when her father was the only one to find her, reality hit hard.

"She's not coming back is she?" she asked in a small cry.

Liz was pulling her into a tight hug in a second when it happened. She broke down into uncontrollable sobs. Gilbert and her father could only look on as she clutched Liz's jacket. It felt like a lifetime had passed before she pulled herself away and calmed herself enough to talk again.

"Édesem, how about we go back to the car?" she asked quietly. To her surprise she received a nod in reply. "Gil, can I have the car keys?"

Without any hesitation he handed over the bundle of keys and gently told her to be careful.

The brothers stood watching them leave, both accepting the atmosphere that had fallen on them. This time it was Ludwig who made the first move.

"Thank you, for everything," he said. Gilbert couldn't get used to the harshness in his voice. He sounded broke, lost and utterly destroyed.

"Don't thank me. I would do anything for you, you know that."

Ludwig didn't answer. He silently limped to the graveside, Gilbert instantly jumping to help him.

They didn't talk as they stood over the grave. Letting the silence fill in whatever conversation was needed. The rain had started falling heavier now and both were extremely thankful for the umbrella Gilbert held.

"Gilbert... I don't know how I'm going to..." Ludwig revealed with a barely concealed sob.

Gilbert didn't need to be told what he needed to do. He dropped the umbrella and grabbed the man by the shoulders and almost wrestled the man into an embrace. Despite Ludwig's vain struggles to get free, he held firm and refused to loosen his grip until Ludwig calmed. The umbrella lay forgotten at their feet, shifting slightly in the wind.

It took a lot longer than it had for Brunhilde to calm, but when he did they still remained in the embrace.

"Ludwig, whatever you need you have us. I don't care how long it takes, but you will be ok. Things are going to be fine," he vowed as seriously as he could. Tears were once again threatening to spill; he couldn't let them fall though. He had to be strong now. He could break down later, but not now.

Tentatively he pulled away and looked up at his brother. The man was broken. That much was obvious, but Gilbert knew he could be helped. He just needed time.

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><p><em>Last note but I hope everyone's ok with me going with fem!Italy. I wanted to work in another story but then it wouldn't have worked so I was forced to choose Fem!Italy instead of normal Italy :(<br>_


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